Editor’s Note: Volunteering for Pride Houston, Inc.

I harp on about a lot of things in this magazine. From boys to social justice issues to inclusion to representation to the importance of community, I have a lot of opinions. Mind you, those opinions aren’t always terribly popular. Earlier this year, I wrote an opinion piece about my distaste for Houston’s GLBT Political Caucus endorsing Andrew White over Lupe Valdez for Governor of Texas. It was a tough pill for me to swallow watching a qualified, lesbian Latina get passed up for the endorsement over the white, straight, cis man, Andrew White, who — while very much accomplished and well-meaning — was a born and bred politician that didn’t have the experiences of people of color and LGBTQIA folks. While Valdez later went on to win the primary elections and is now running up against incumbent Greg Abbott, my opinions about my disappointment were not well-received by Houston’s LGBTQ community.

But here’s an opinion that I think many of can agree upon: Houston’s LGBTQ community is incredibly diverse. It is made up of people of all skin colors, all religious affiliations, all gender identifications, all sexual orientations, all body types, all nationalities, all hand-capabilities, and all political affiliations. We’re Black, Latinx, Jewish, Christian, lesbian, gay, asexual, Native American, transgender, nonbinary, Asian, Islamic, and everything in between. Unfortunately, what many of us fail to realize is that not all of those marginalized peoples are equally represented in several facets of the community. Whether it in the media, in our entertainment, in politics, or just out in the bars and at brunches, people of color and the trans/nonbinary people have not always ever been represented the way that cis, white, gay men have in this community. Hell, even About Magazine — which will celebrate its tenth anniversary this year — was not always historically diverse. When I took over, we had a very small staff that consisted mostly of males. And as a queer Latino, the responsibility of making sure my staff reflected the beautiful spectrum of people in our community was important to me. I took to the task of seeking out talent from all marginalized people, even working with Ian Syder-Blake to bring about the first strictly-trans content section of any Houston magazine last winter.

And for the last forty years, Pride Houston, Inc. has not has always been inclusive of all people. While everyone of every kind showed up to the volunteer during Pride Week each year, the Board of Directors and Production Team were historically white-washed and cis-managed. But then around this time last year, something wonderful happened at Pride Houston. For the first time in forty years, a Black, queer woman took the reigns of the organization.

Her name is Lo Roberts, and she is the sitting president and CEO of Pride Houston. I know her personally, having worked with her personally for two straight years as Pride Houston’s volunteer committee chair before stepping down to devote my time strictly to About. And if there is one thing that I’ve known about Lo since the first time we met closer to three years ago, it’s this: she cares about the needs of community — the entire community. As a woman, Lo has faced her fair share of adversity, but as a queer, Black woman, Lo has broken more than just the glass ceiling by rising to what is arguably the highest-ranking LGBTQ office of any queer Houston organization. And it didn’t come without cost. Last year, I bore witness first hand and suffered through alongside the Board of Directors to have Frankie Quijano — Lo’s predecessor — expelled from Pride Houston when he refused to step down as president and CEO after Roberts was elected and sworn-in as president of the organization. It was a lengthy legal battle that garnered the attention of Houstonian’s and queer people internationally. Many of us working with Pride at the time — which included current sitting board members such as Jeremy Fain and Dan Cato — didn’t sleep much, were constantly bombarded with emails notifications, and walked around on eggshells for several months. I mean, at one point Quijano and his husband (who was also elected to the Board of Directors and later removed) put out a cease and desist order against About Magazine to stop writing any articles relating to Pride Houston in spite of the fact that we hadn’t written anything about Pride Houston at all. We were tired; we were exasperated; but we were never defeated. And that’s simply because there was a communal knowledge that in order for this community to be best served in all its many and various facets, we needed the representation of a a queer Black woman at the organization’s helm.

And while my time with Pride Houston was not without its ups-and-downs — that’s something any committed volunteer will eventually have to learn to handle when working with a group of other strong-minded and passionate individuals — it was overall one of the most rewarding experience of my life. And it wasn’t because the role was glitzy and glamorous. It most certainly was not. Working as a volunteer year-round and running a committee is a thankless job and one that is met with refute no matter what decisions you make. Rather, the job was overwhelmingly positive — even at the worst of times — because of the volunteers from the community — as many as 600 at a time — with whom I had the privilege to work.

These volunteers give up their time and their energy to make Pride happen because they believe in it. They do it — just like I did when I got involved almost three years ago — because they want to make a difference and they want to see themselves and people like them represented. This Pride isn’t a white, gay, male Pride. At least, it’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be a Pride for everyone in one of the most diverse cities in our nation — in the world. It’s the fourth largest Pride in the United States and it’s one that has a responsibility to represent and listen to the needs of all its community members — Black, trans, nonbinary, lesbian, Asian, or otherwise. It’s not what the community can do to serve Pride Houston, but what Pride Houston can do to serve the community. And I — as cognizant as I am about the lack in years past — am certain that this is a matter that is of great importance to President Lo Roberts.

The reason I bring this up to you, Houstonians, is because I would like to present you with a challenge. Right now, Pride Houston, Inc. is taking applications for their Board of Directors — the folks who call the shots and who make the decisions as to how to best serve the community. And I challenge you — all of you and mostly those of you who feel like you aren’t being represented in the community and that want to make a change — to follow this link and throw your hat into the ring to be a part of the change to Houston’s LGBTQIA community, as well as to the newly envisioned Pride Houston that Roberts and her team are blueprinting for the years to come. It may be a thankless job, it may be one that seems hopeless, but here’s the thing: nothing in the world ever changes until we make the effort to change it. Nothing in the world is bigger than us if we are a part of it. Nothing is impossible if we sweep the dirt off the path just a little bit further. But most importantly, nothing serves our community better than when the community is represented by people who have suffered the similar unique adversities that the community has. And that starts with representation. And Pride Houston not only needs but wants to be representative right now.

So, please. I implore of you that you take this step. Whatever issues any of us may have had with Pride Houston in the past may still be sore spots. Pride Houston needs trans, nonbinary, women, and POC representatives right now in order to be the Pride it should be. But this is the opportunity for us to rejuvenate Pride Houston and to make it the thing that everyone wants it to be. And with a president and CEO like Lo Roberts steering the ship, that dream is nothing short of possible.